


All Could Hear/All Could Sing

by another_crack_in_time_and_space



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Also Dalish rights, Dalish Elves, Declarations Of Love, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Jasper just sucks okay, Like tasteful sideboob, M/M, Mentally Ill Character, Mild Smut, but tasteful smut, problematic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_crack_in_time_and_space/pseuds/another_crack_in_time_and_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's obvious word gets around Skyhold like a plague, so what else might travel so quickly? All of Skyhold could hear them, in whispers and in screams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not safe for work, but you can skip to the end for the fluffy parts.

Jasper supposed it was a Dalish thing to always need the outdoors. He left his balcony open for no other reason than to be assure he was in the mountains, far from his clan. He could stand out on the balcony to the east and look down into the garden, or perhaps the one to the south and watch ravens spiral among the cliff face, but these things did only so much to comfort him. It was the breeze that most calmed his homesickness. If he shut his eyes and held his breath he could have been in the caves of Sundermount, where his clan had wandered once.

He also would wager a more mischievous part of him kept the doors open so Dorian would be forced to look to him for warmth at night. The temperamental mage would whine pitifully that Jasper was sure to catch some illness from the chill, and at the very least should be considerate enough to close it for others not as acclimated to the cold. Jasper would laugh, holding Dorian that much closer.

Tonight was one of those nights where nothing could ward off the chill of loneliness or otherwise. It seemed both Jasper and Dorian were in sour moods. Dorian shifted against Lavellan’s side, never quite reaching comfort, frustrated that he had to put his book down almost every time he moved and Jasper kept his body stiff, his thoughts wandering and clouding his face. Dorian gave Jasper an equally unreadable look after the elf’s third consecutive sigh, snapping his book closed.

“Amatus, I implore you, close the windows, it’s freezing in here.” He sounded completely bored and put upon, only because he was shielding his concern. Jasper wasn’t often given to displays of emotion, let alone negative ones.

“How would I see the stars?” he mumbled, hoping for poetic and missing by a mile as his question sounded more like an accusation.

“Normally seeing the stars as one sleeps is cause for alarm. It’s not like the blasted things ever change, now is it?” Dorian knew this to be false, having dedicated a few years to astronomy. He hoped he could convince Jasper, the naturalist of all people, to give it a rest, just tonight. The cold only made him more irritable, for one, so he could hardly imagine that it was helping his lover.

“I’ll get you another blanket,” The elf got up briskly, sending the mage off balance. Jasper crossed the length of his room, kneeling and rooting around in a chest that was only pitifully half filled with blankets. The smell of dirt and must rolled over him, forming a tight pit in his stomach. His hands brushed the painted halla hair blanket that he had carried with him to the conclave, catching on the deep red and green patterns. He could practically smell the smoke of a cook fire, hear the chatting and singing of his encampment.

“Maybe we could find another way to warm up.” Dorian suggested, either dumb or playing at it. Jasper got up from the floor and frowned over his shoulder. “Maybe we could talk about what’s actually going on?” Dorian asked critically, squinting suspiciously. Jaser abandoned the Halla hair blanket, folding it tenderly again and picked up a blanket from his chair, one he had overlooked. He threw it on the foot of the bed as he approached. Dorian, crawling on his knees to the blanket, half tried to make calf eyes at his beloved. “Or maybe we should talk about you, amatus.”

“Oh no, no no, your other suggestion was fine.” Jasper was quick to cover his tracks. He hooked his hands around Dorian’s hips, pulling him up on his knees and flush to his body. Dorian allowed himself to be kissed before letting go of a soft whine.

“You’re so quick to dismiss. Talking could be fun.” He complained, only half meaning this. Dorian traced his lover’s neck with kisses, stealing Jaspers breath from him.

“Oh, were you talking? I thought we were kissing. You should have told me.” Jasper laughed, evading Dorian. He joined Dorian on the bed and pressed him down on his back, resting between his knees. Jasper pressed his mouth onto Dorian’s before he could ask pesky questions. The absence of asking was pulling at both of them but Jasper would do all he could to ignore it. His hands dug into the soft velveteen of the mage’s robes, pulling them open greedily. His eyes flickered up to Dorian’s for approval. Though the mage’s face was flushed, his eyes, which had grown considerably darker, seemed confused.

“Amatus,” he whispered gently, his hands pressing against Lavellan’s, stilling their movements. “You seem-”

“Don’t worry about it.” He rolled off Dorian in an easy movement, landing on his back with a sigh “It’s not something I want to dwell on.” Jasper threw a freckled arm over his eyes, wrapping his free hand around a dangling buckle, pulling absently.

“Ah we’re playing the lying game then.” Dorian turned to get his arm beneath him, striking a graceful pose as he leaned over Jasper. “Good, I was wondering when we’d get to this part. Never a truer sign of complete adoration. Least not in Tevinter.” Jasper peeked over his wrist at the man, trying to scowl with just his eyes. “Now, what was it you didn’t want to talk about?” he asked, drawing his free hand down the elf’s torso, but keeping chilling eye contact. “I so would love to not listen.”

Jasper lurched up, almost butting heads with the mage, claiming his mouth in a kiss that was far too passionate for his dour mood. If Dorian minded he made no move to express this, securing his free hand under the small of Jasper’s back, pulling him up to his chest. Jasper turned quickly until he was on top, keeping Dorian pinned beneath his body. Dorian took this to his advantage, unbuttoning the blue silk shirt hardly breaking contact. It was quite the feat, but he was not unpracticed. No matter how many times they did this Jasper’s heart always set to pounding. He wasn’t always sure if it was for the sex or the scandal of it. His hands roamed wildly over Dorian’s leather bound hips, prying at buckles with nimble fingers. He gritted his teeth in impatience, then ducked his head to nip along Dorian’s newly exposed collarbones as he nearly sundered the top.

“I hate leather,” Jasper growled, letting Dorian take over for a few moments until the whole thing was off him. “I hate the metal embellishments because they’re freezing cold. I hate that there’s two cords right there to make me think of what you’d look like bound in bed.” Dorian laughed at that, dragging his hands against Jasper’s ribs.

“Oh Amatus, the things you say.” He pressed a testing hand against Jasper’s cock, getting himself a whine of surprise and pleasure. “I would never let myself be tied up. You’ll just have to wonder” He continued to stoke Jasper into hardness before the elf finally got a handle on himself.

“You never know, I can be persuasive.” Jasper bargained, removing Dorian’s wandering hand and rutting lightly in its place. The man all but growled at that, the air between them already thick with heat.

“Tell me…” Dorian continued, as if they weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off, “what else do you hate about me?” His fingers dug into Jasper’s hipbones, probably aiming to leave bruises. He was effectively still stuck beneath him and could only watch as Jasper had his way.

“I hate your taste in wine.” he started, leaning down again to kiss him. “You always taste like the back end of a rotted barrel. There’s a Dalish wine, made of summer grapes, sweeter than anything you’ve ever tasted, lighter than sunshine. You drink much like your mood.” Jasper only registered Dorian’s movement after it had happened but suddenly he found himself flat on his back, pressed almost painfully hard into the mattress.

“You’re such a poet. What ever do you mean, like my mood? I’m perfectly delightful. You wouldn’t know a vintage from dishwater.” Dorian kissed a wet trail of kisses from his nape to the bottom of his ribs.

“Dark and sour” Jasper quipped, hips bucking off the bed when Dorian sunk his teeth into the inside of his thigh. This man moved quickly. Dorian bit the other one for good measure, to which Jasper responded with a shout. He  was almost painfully hard now, but wouldn’t lower himself to beg for anything.

“Dark and sour? Those are fighting words.” Dorians heavy breaths left ripples of elation all over Jasper’s body. “What else?” he asked, before taking Jasper into his mouth. With a surpressed moan Jasper continued, hands sinking into the mages precious hair.

“You…” he broke off, near keening at the ways Dorian was using his tongue. “Creators, Dorian!” He was hard pressed to speak as his pleasure reached a fever pitch. In the same moment Dorian pulled away suddenly, eyes flashing with power.

“Yes? I’m all ears.” He smiled at whatever expression was on Jasper’s face. Was he blushing? He could barely feel it, could barely hear over the blood in his ears. He attempted to argue at this, to beg and fight, but he caught himself quickly.

“Oh are you?” Jasper panted. “Why do you hate the cold so much? Why do shems hate the land they take, never treating it with respect or dignity?” His tongue kept slipping out of his control, and Dorian’s face seemed to close off. Was he offended? Jasper sat up now, pulling Dorian too, trying to get all the emotion out of his body in a kiss. His hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking.

Dorian brought a hand up to take his, breaking off from the kiss with a furrow in his brow. The look was altogether too tender for the feelings curling in Jaspers stomach, washing out the heat of pleasure from before.

“Amatus, I-” He began but Jasper wouldn’t have it. He pushed him down, again, trying to gain control. He didn’t want to feel anything now. He pulled Dorian’s lip between his teeth in an attempt to keep him from interrupting. The taste of blood startled him for a moment. Too rough and Dorian would leave. He backed off instead turning his attention to the unattended parts of Dorian’s body.

“You can conjure fire out of thin air and yet you shiver in absolute despair at any drafty wind.” Jasper tutted, lifting Dorian’s hips for leverage. He tested him, warming him up teasingly while waiting for a response.

“Tevinter is tropical,” his breathing hitched for a moment, but he attempted to speak evenly. “mediterranean actually. It’s deliciously warm there, like the perfect summer day.” His eyes looked far away now and Jasper knew intimately the ache inside his chest. He fixed that look with a finger, deep into his lover. Dorian gasped at that, unprepared for it.

“So living there for decades renders you unable to find comfort in a chill?” Jasper’s face, now cast in shadow from this angle was twisted between curiosity and impatience. He withdrew once before going again with two fingers, supposing he should probably be seeing to the vial of oil kept around for this. He glanced over idly, as if he couldn’t be bothered with actually paying attention to the man writhing with pleasure and pain beneath him.

“And you can?” Dorian gasped again, hands going for whatever he could hold on to. His face looked more drawn than joyful so Jasper reached languidly for the bottle on the end table. He nodded curtly before oiling himself, looking to Dorian once for confirmation.

“Winter means I can breathe again. It’s hard to hunt, and stay warm, that true, but the air is clean and clear. We gather as a whole clan to share heat, bodies pressed against one another.” He shut his eyes and for a moment he could hear and feel and smell them all around him, lifting a heavy weight from his heart. Yet the rising body heat of the Tevinter underneath him pulled him out of this train of thought, before carefully sliding into Dorian’s body, slowly at first. The mage, not one for the loud cries like his lover, did groan at this, almost panting in anticipation.

“Seems...peculiar.” Dorian sniffed, perhaps a bit too harshly. Jasper picked up speed then. Dorian wrapped his fingers around anything he could grab. “Ah..anything else?” he panted heavily, waves of euphoria making him heady. By way of response Jasper struck against his prostate, winning him a few moments without talk, only the sound of skin on skin and his own unbidden moans. He was so close to release it almost hurt, and Dorian and he wordlessly acknowledged this. In minutes Jasper let go to waves of pleasure, shaking through his body like a sickness. He knew he could be embarrassingly loud and showed no restraint tonight, crying for all the Creators to hear. Dorian followed soon after, with almost no warning. They lay in a ringing silence, tangled almost seamlessly in each other, labored breath covering the little space between them.  Regardless of his current emotions, Jasper could hardly deny how much Dorian felt like a place to call home.

When Jasper’s heart finally slowed in his chest and the cold wind which started this whole thing picked up again he untangled, crossing his room to the basin beside the wardrobe, setting to work at cleaning himself up. Dorian remained on the bed, naked in all his glory. Glory it was, Jasper thought to himself. Irrefutably, the man was beautiful. But he wasn’t about to get so romantic. He had often been scolded for being too dreamy and letting his heart deter him.

“You know, I do love you.” Dorian spoke casually. Jasper’s hand froze, dripping cloth suspended in air. What did he just say? “It’s quite true, amatus. I know, I know, bad timing, what with the evil magister darkspawn and the fate of the world and all, but I truly, deeply love you.” He sighed dramatically, letting an arm fall to the side and turning to watch Jasper from across the room. His nonchalance would be disconcerting if he wasn’t trying so hard.

Why would he say this now, of all times? Because Jasper just got him off? Because he was angry? What had he done to prompt this? They’d been seeing each other for some time now, though it seemed to be only a whirlwind of months. It hardly felt like enough time to the elf. He had always been more traditional in these matters, preferring drawn on courtships to the week long or month long affairs he saw in his clan. Time was short on the land, that was true, but he couldn’t let go of the stories of romance he’d picked up from shem books along the way. The knight and the princess, or the pauper and the prince. Unlikely and yet so unshakeable in their love for each other. Was he the princess here? No books he’d read mentioned feeling quite so gutted when your lover said these words. Elation, sure. Pride. But this felt so much like fear and dread.

Dorian Pavus loved him. This man, this brave, talented, powerful man, loved him. An elf, who spent his first twenty years in a blighted wagon. He couldn’t believe Dorian could look past all that and truly love him. A trick perhaps, or a test. Would he pass? What was he supposed to say, or do? There was no ready answer for this. He had no precedent. All the air leaked out of the room, slowly, moment by moment. He was suffocating. The words rang in his head. Did he love him back? How would he know? Was he already in love? Had he ever been in love? Could he really be in love with a shem? By the Creators it was so hot in here, and yet he felt frozen in place.

Suddenly a whisper in his right ear took him by surprise and he flinched away, still holding the rag, to find Dorian just beside him, now wrapped in a robe.

“Amatus, you’re scaring me. Are you alright? You don’t have to say anything, it was stupid of me.” Dorian took Jasper’s hand, prying the cloth from it and setting it down, then stroking his cheek, grey eyes locked on his. “Forgive my foolishness,” he was whispering again, as if he could hardly stand in Jasper’s presence without being in awe of him.

“Ma vhen’an, I...I don’t know what to say.” Vhen’an. The endearment felt strange in his mouth. It had never been on his lips before, and now here it stood, as brazen as him in the empty room. My heart, it said. My home. It was fitting, he thought. It was true, which scared him more than it should. Jasper drew closer until they could rest their heads together. Dorian’s careful composure slipped and his breath hitched at their proximity. The revenance with which Jasper always treated him was a shock, even now, when the elf was clearly in distress over something. Dorian cherished every moment with him, and was hard pressed to think of anyone he cared for more in the world. Even this silence was not enough to plant an ounce of doubt in his mind. Of course love was a slow process. Dorian should know that intimately.

“It’s alright. Don’t look like that, I’m being serious. Come on, let’s get into bed before you catch a chill.” Dorian’s eyes flickered briefly with delight. “Honestly, haven’t you ever heard of clothes, or are you Dalish too savage for that.”

“Oh didn’t you know,” Jasper joked back weakly, “We run around dancing naked in the woods. All the better to steal your children and curse your god.” he followed Dorian, sheepish and ashamed over his lack of response for the man. “Ir abelas, vhen’an.” He said once they had settled onto the bed.

“If I know you, you’re probably trying to make it up to me with sweet elvish nothings. Nonsense, come cuddle with me instead.” Dorian leaned back against the headboard, pulling back the blankets and extending a hand to Jasper who curled gratefully against his side, shutting his eyes and sighing softly. They laid together, silent, Dorian playing with the red curls atop Jasper’s head, considering the life he currently lead. It wasn’t a bad one at all. And somehow, he knew Jasper loved him, in his own quiet way. They’d be there for each other, always, for as long as they were willing.

Gently the pair fell asleep as though held by a breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first smut chapter in a v long time. Translations provided by Project Elvhen. If you see something you like, comment. If you see something you don't like, comment. Tell me how you feel! Tell your friends how you feel! Point is tell someone!


	2. Moans

Though Dorian had forseen Jasper being upset, he never thought it would come to this. 

No one had heard from Jasper in hours and even Cole couldn’t find him, floating through rooms as he is wont to do. Sera refused to help at all, which prompted the intial go over of the kitchen. When The Iron Bull turned his face up at Dorian’s approach he searched the battlements. Josephine’s rushed exit from the great hall had him searching her office. And yet he couldn’t find him anywhere. By now, at almost night fall the mage was beyond frustrated and just a little bit worried. This seemed so strange for the elf, who was known for barreling through his responsibilities with hardly a flinch. The second Dorian announces his leave the man is gone, dropped off the face of Thedas. 

He had just decided to concede defeat and withdraw to the tavern when he noticed Varric giving him a very strange look. Picking his way through fluffy orlesian frocks he paused uncertainly before the fireplace before composing himself. 

“Can I help you, Varric?” Dorian asked with grace, trying to convey boredom and failing very very badly. his fingers tapped too impatiently at the table, his eyes shifted around the room for a streak of red hair. 

“No Sparkler but I may help you. Word is the Inquisitor is missing. It’s all fun and games until the poor kid falls off some high ledge somewhere.” Dorian looked perturbed at the thought, surprise crossing his face suddenly. “Now, don’t get your robes in a knot, he’s probably fine. But if I were you, I’d check the garden.” Dorian frowned, opening his mouth to argue but Varric cut him off once again. “Look up.” he added in a sharper tone before turning back to the stack of letters beside him. “No one ever thinks to look up.” Without much more provocation Dorian set off, trying to keep himself from flat out running. He would never stoop so low. 

The gardens were lit by stray torches, filling the yard with more shadows than light. Very few people remained now that light was retreating behind the mountains. Even Morrigan was gone, probably off to stare into a mirror dreamily and consider all the ways men have cheated her. Or something. Dorian shook his head of these thoughts and paused by the well, looking around for a moment. The smell of dirt and elfroot was always overpowering here and it made his head ache, but it was a good sign all the same. The planters by the north east corner had been tended to recently, and Jasper was the only one who ever did that. Now what was it Varric said? Ah yes.

Look up.

Dorian scanned the battlements first, straining against the dark to find him. The mage tower was empty, and the only people up on walkways were soldiers. He frowned and looked a level lower. Jasper was not on top of the gazebo nor was he on the upper level of the garden. Dorian turned suddenly but even from here it was obvious that Lavellan’s balcony was absent. If that damned dwarf sent him on a wild goose chase, he was going to-

A flash of light caught his eye, and he spun again, to see a shadow slip out of rustling tree branches.  _ Look up. _ Kaffas, he meant the actual trees, didn’t he? Dorian smoothed a hand over his hair and cleared his throat as the shadow approached. He really hoped it was Jasper. If this was an assassin, things were about to get awkward. Fleetingly he realized there wasn’t a difference between the two as far as Jasper was concerned. Fasta vass, now this was really going to be awkward. The elf stepped into the torch light boldly, shoulders tense and mouth set in a grim line.  Right, they were angry at each other. Had to wipe the relief off his face. Quelling the joy that rose in his chest Dorian narrowed his eyes and mimicked Jasper’s expression. 

“I hope you’re not here to talk to me, vhenan.” Jasper spat. “I have nothing to say to you.” Dorian cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“And yet, here you are, talking first. You could have stayed tucked up in your tree,” keeping his eyes down he took a step closer to Jasper, who held his ground. Or gave it up depending on the perspective. “but you came down to talk to me, amatus.” Jasper made an indignant noise at this, turning his cheek. 

“I’m not discussing this. Leave me alone.” he backed up now, slipping into shadow, but not moving more than arms length away. 

“Don’t be such a child.” Dorian snapped, quickly losing his temper. “You think that sulking will keep me here? I need to go back, and you know it. Dragging on like this is unbecoming for a man so...so…” he trailed off, losing his thoughts. Jasper made no move to speak, nor did he show any sign he had even listened to the outburst. Honestly, the nerve of these powerful types. “I have my own ambitions, as do you. We are separate people.” 

Jasper sneered, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “I’m not an idiot. I know that! I know you have to leave.” His voice was far louder than he thought, almost near shouting. “I don’t have to like it. And I don’t have to deal with it. Do you expect me not to grieve for you?” the last sentence echoed, winding Dorian more than he would have liked. 

“Grieve for me? What a ridiculous notion. I’m not dying.” He scoffed at this, but had to mind that he didn’t reach out for him, instead tucking his hand into a pocket on his robe. “You do have to deal with this, because you’re the Inquisitor and people depend on you! Fasta vass, Jasper.” 

“You clearly aren’t one of them, are you?.” Jasper bit before he could stop himself. He turned away from Dorian abruptly before he could see his reaction. Dorian’s mouth screwed up tight, a trick he learned from his mother. Anything to keep from doing something worse. He could temper his tongue or they could fight until they brought the whole mountain down. As appealing as it was to be swallowed whole by a force of the Maker he supposed it wouldn’t really solve their problems. 

“Amatus, we’ve discussed this. Leaving has nothing to do with you,” Dorian scuffed a boot against the earth under him. “and I’m not leaving for another month. You said this was a brilliant idea and now you’re avoiding it. I do so hate liars.” So Dorian was playing dirty. Now was as good a time for any and he was desperate. 

“How can you possibly…” Jasper stared up, as if praying to something. The elf sighed once, drawing Dorian’s attention back to him. “How can you look at me like that, and think that I’m a liar?” He asked, tone more sad than it was bitter. “You never...we never said it in so many words but I had thought that this, our relationship would...I am not in a position to let you go. And yet you hardly seem troubled at all. You might as well skip all the way to Minrathous.” 

Dorian sputtered out a laugh here, but caught himself quickly, before taking another step to close the gap between them. “I assure you, I am skipping nowhere just yet. Far too exhausting,” Jasper’s lip quirked at that remark, the light of the settling dusk playing with the scar over his right cheek. “Our relationship, whatever it may be, is not about to crumble to ash. We haven’t been together through all of this for it to just fade to nothing when we finally have time to properly enjoy it.” Testing the waters Dorian wrapped his fingers through his, loose enough that their palms just brushed against each other. Jasper moved closer rather than farther away, curling into Dorian, pressing his face into the man’s neck. “Really, my dear, do you have no faith in me?” he asked quietly. 

“I have stronger faith in my fear, vhenan. It’s served me too well to simply disregard it,” Jasper shrugged once, barely a movement at all. “Come, there’s a certain man I’d like to properly enjoy, if he’ll still have me after the mess I’ve made.” The light in Jasper’s eyes glimmered once more, a great relief to his lover.

“The things you say, amatus, continue to astound.” They fled the gardens together, hand in hand, sneaking into the inquisitor’s rooms. 

The next morning when Jasper entered his war room, Josephine’s face immediately turned bright red as she stammered a good morning. Cullen all but snorted, and Leliana beamed at him brightly. 

“I’m so glad you and Dorian have made up, Inquisitor,” her eyes narrowed playfully. “But may I suggest investing in scarves?” 


	3. Screams

Sandstone loomed over him, waving back in forth in the fading heat of the afternoon. It was all glaringly white, which would disorient even a seasoned traveler like him. His robes clung to him unattractively, making the outline of his sending crystal all the more noticeable. His hand traveled to it as he rounded the corner, catching sight of the university he had been heading for. Felix’s absence marked him even here, two years since his death. He shook his head with a grimace. This wasn’t the time. He was meeting with some group or other to discuss his new legislature, after after hours of work with the Maeveris. He wouldn’t get lost in the city like some common soporati. He took up a crisp walk once more, chewing at his lip and preparing speaking points. 

When he rounded the next corner is when he noticed them, a couple walking distantly behind him. His skin prickled in the heat, eyes narrowing against the glare of the surrounding buildings. He didn’t have the energy to consider two passerbys. His paranoia was unbecoming. He was almost to the thoroughfare anyway, and could confidently lose any followers in the crowd. He looked ahead to the milling crowds and could barely hide his relief. It’d been a stressful few months after all, with assuming the senatorial seat. He trotted now, as quick a pace as he could manage in the nearly suffocating weather. In no time at all he found himself caught up in crowds, and the prickle of his skin faded into a sort of raw tingle. This was the last time he’d go out alone, he swore, as he is often like to do when he is followed. This of course never comes true the next day. 

He continued west, hoping to reach the speaking house before his guests. He couldn’t be late to this. It was the last pinch they needed before next months census, and he would have it. Maeveris and he had discussed their strategy for this years political sessions at length, and his heart hummed with confidence. He could really do something here. As he found the house and drew inside he let his mind go to his inquisitor, still trying to tie up loose ends. He wondered if Jasper was dealing with the stress well, if he was sleeping alright. Bah, he could mind himself, and Dorian knew it. He misliked their distance, and was itching to see him after the summer session ended. 

A servant ushered him into the garden behind the house, putting out cups of wine and small treats at Dorian’s request. The gardens were large and completely in bloom, a brilliant panoply of color and shape. The smell of hundreds of different flowers blended together into a headache for him, but he brushed it off, taking the cup nearest him. Now he only had to wait for his patrons, and they could begin. He brought the wine to his lips, half from nerves and half from thirst, and drank deeply. Normally he didn’t like red wine, but it was surprisingly sweet. 

 

It only took five minutes in all. Dorian should have been offended. 

 

It began with his pulse. Without warning it spiked suddenly, a loud clanging in his head as every blood vessel in his body dilated. Then his breath came in short wet gasps, sending him to his knees with faintness. His body swelled shortly afterward, his eyelids shutting fastly. He fumbled stupidly for his sending crystal as he coughed and sputtered, realizing belatedly that the stiff hand he raised to his lips came away with blood. 

“Jasper,” He cried. “Jasper!” No one was coming into the garden, despite his screams. No one would find him here. Not until they needed to, after his death. As his lungs continued to fill and his throat swelled shut Dorian could only sit and shriek noiselessly. And this was all that he had accomplished in Tevinter. Killed before anything could even begin. With a startling jolt his heart stopped and he was left alone in darkness, terrified and waiting. In that darkness, he realized he was never going to see Jasper again. He would never touch the vallaslin on his face, nor kiss his scar. He would never watch the sun rise over his naked body, he would never fight back to back. And all he could see, in clear image was the broken gaze on Jasper’s face as he pleaded with him not to go back home to Tevinter, still bedridden after his amputation and unable to get up and follow. Dear Maker, he would never make that right. He loved him so much, he…

* * *

_Weeks Later_

Fog was leaking into Jasper’s bed room, the embers in the fireplace no longer enough warmth to keep the mist out. He rose quietly, awake even at this hour. He walked lightly over the chilled tile to shut the balcony doors and relight his fire. As Jasper reached down for the fire starter he paused, and in dumb silence straightened up. He didn’t have a second hand to hold the other flint. He crawled back into bed wordlessly and shut his burning eyes. Admittedly he hadn’t slept well at all since his love had left. No more than a few hours each night, if that. It was starting to drive him crazy. 

A sharp knock took him out of his thoughts, and he cleared his throat before answering. His voice still broke as he allowed them in anyway. Conveniently it was a servant, come to stoke his fire and put out breakfast. He nodded his thanks as they did these tasks, but didn’t speak. He was embarrassed at how poorly he’d been taking care of himself these days. His mood had fallen considerably, but he was still the inquisitor. He still needed to get up and show around. Nobels very quickly stopped showing their faces around since Ferelden and Orlais had come to blows over them. Now the fortress was marginally more...open, as Josephine put it. And even she knew it was a stretch. They still got pilgrims, that’s true. But the elves were gone, and that alienated Jasper more than he liked. 

After picking through his food Jasper rose and awkwardly slid a half cape over his shoulders, spinning it to hide his deformity. It was much easier to walk through the great hall without all of skyhold staring at him. He began his careful steps down from his tower, eyes narrowed and ears low. He just had to spend an hour out there. Just an hour, then he could go back into his room and call Dorian. At that thought his hand reached for his sending crystal tucked in his shirt. Yes, there it was, safe. He continued down into the great hall, taking a breath before entering the castle proper. 

It was still rather early, and not many were in the hall. Bull stuck around, and some of his chargers were lingering by the door, chatting with each other before they headed out on a resource mission. That’s what they did these days, pick weeds. Jasper rolled his eyes and ducked into Josephine’s office, which was to no one’s surprise already occupied. Josephine looked up with a start but her gaze softened when she realized who it was. 

“Inquis..er, Jasper. I didn’t expect you so early,” He shrugged by way of response and sank down into the arm chair by the fire, watching her quill work furiously. How Josephine still had so much to do was beyond him. He’d have snapped by now. She looked up through her lashes and back down at her paper, frown lines twitching at the side of her mouth. “You had another nightmare, I take it? Maybe we should-”   
“They’re not serious,” Jasper cut in. “What are you working on?” She had been begging him for months to go see a healer in Val Royeux, which he was ignoring staunchly. Healers can’t shape dreams, so he had no idea what she thought it would help. 

“Trade manifests, for my family mostly. Our winter stocks are still practically filled, in skyhold.” she leaned her head upon her hand and sighed. “I miss all the people here.” 

“Of course, you have less and less people to win over with your charm,” Jasper teased though his tone was too flat. Neither mentioned it and they lasped back into silence. Jasper watched the flames lick up the sides of the flue and could feel his eyes grow heavy, regardless that he’d just woken up. When he shut his eyes however a violent flash of green light jolted him back awake, while his shoulder ached terribly. Sylaise’s mercy, he could barely see through the shock. He looked down at the arm, but knew he’d find nothing. It was just in his head. 

“Leliana was looking for you,” Josephine added, out of nowhere. “She’s up in the rookery, settling a few loose ends before she goes back to Halamshiral.” Jasper nodded and rose carefully, nodding by way of farewell. He took the stairs rather than go through Solas’ rotunda. The path up the stairs was laborious, as they were want to be with only one arm and little balance. He paused on his way to the second flight, standing in front of Dorian’s alcove. The alcove was devoid of several books, not all could have been Dorian’s but Jasper hadn’t argued. The lute was gone as well. Jasper reached his hand out to the arm of the chair that remained, and smiled. The mornings he had spent on Dorian’s lap, playing with his hair as he spoke of the books he’d read and things he’d discovered. The nights where silent reading became far too frisky for a library. The way the sun would catch in Dorian’s eyes or on his rings and Jasper would stare silently for far too long. 

Pining for Dorian alone was no closure. He sighed irritatedly to himself and resumed his walking. Just a few more months, he told himself. Then the summer session would end and Jasper could see him once more. Maybe they’d go to the free marches, or maybe go to...well a lot of places hated them, but they’d find somewhere. 

Finally Jasper was in the rookery, though he had to stop and catch his breath beside Leliana’s table. He didn’t really trust her all that much since he’d been to that chantry with her. There was something to her that was...off. But she served an important role and was one of the only people who still stuck around. She rose from her morning prayer and approached Jasper quietly. There was a dark look to her eyes that immediately set him on edge. 

“Dark wings, dark words?” He asked, as she shuffled some letters around on the table behind him. “You seem...awfully serious.” She handed him a carefully folded note, weighed down with a heavy wax seal. Twin snakes. A weight hit Jasper’s stomach then, and his blood ran cold. This wasn’t…

“What is this?” He demanded, searching her face for any indication. “What does it say?” 

“That is best read in your chambers, Lord Lavellan.” She replied stiffly, knowing he hated being called lord. She turned away and gestured to an agent who still lingered on the far side of the room. They vanished silently. 

“Leliana, please tell me this isn’t-”

“I haven’t read it.” Her decleration sat awkwardly between them. She was the spymaster, of course she read them. “The seal isn’t broken. I...would like to know what it says when you are through.” Spurred by fear Jasper turned and stumbled through the hold to get back to his room, clutching the letter for dear life. When he finally cleared the stairs to his room Jasper flew to his bed. He dropped his letter and grabbed his sending crystal, whispering the keyword in barely a whisper. 

“Dorian!” Jasper called, waiting for a response. The crystal glowed, so someone was listening, or in proximity. “Dorian, please answer me.” he begged. There was a dreadful silence. “Vhenan?” Jaspers voice cracked as fear threatened to close his throat. His heart seemed to shout with each pulse, over riding any noise around him as he opened the letter awkwardly, snapping the wax seal. 

 

Lord Lavellan, 

Dorian told me about you, a lover in the south. A man he was so resolutely in love with, who gave him courage and joy with each day. A man he would protect from a world away. 

I am so sorry, my dear. 

There is no correct way to say this, no beating around the bush or pretending it didn’t happen.

Dorian was found dead, killed by a political opponent. The healers tell me it was quick, but that hardly seems of consolation. I am unbelievably saddened and enraged that I could not save him, nor prevent this. You and he deserved so much better. 

They say there’s to be a funeral. I am trying to pry the arrangements away from his mother. She never knew what he liked. 

Please be safe, dear, and may the Maker watch over us in this time of mourning. 

 

Maeveris

 

He couldn’t feel his fingers by the time he set the letter down. His limbs all felt like stone. Was this real? Was he dreaming? Another nightmare come to chase him of any hope he clung to? But the fire was hot, too hot on his feverish skin. He had to be awake. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. A sort of growl began in the back of his throat as he proccessed what the letter said. 

Dorian was gone. Forever. Stolen from him by the pathetic shemlen he played games with in their pathetic cities built on bone and blood. His Dorian, his lover, his joy and his light was dead. His body shook violently as his voice rose louder. He was out of control of his own body. He was floating above himself somewhere watching as he stood and staggered to the balcony, the keening in his throat becoming a scream. With all his strength he wailed, and what a strange sound it was. It barely seemed human, just the raw animal cry of something dying. He couldn’t move, or stop or breathe, it seemed he could only scream. His eyes were dry, but his chest was in so much pain. Physical aches tore at him, his arm throbbing intensely. 

Below, his chamber door opened, or it must have, as Josephine came toward him, horror written into her face. He came away from the wall blindly, and clung to her when she drew close. He could barely feel her dress in his hand or hear her voice. She stroked his face and spoke, but he didn’t know what she was saying. Was it elvish? Was she even speaking trade anymore? In pure fear his wailing broke down into sobs. His whole body seemed to be turning inside out. He wanted to throw up, or maybe he was, or maybe he had. His legs shook dangerously as Josephine lead him back to his bed, repeating the same question now, but he still couldn’t tell what she was saying. 

“Vhenan.” Jasper choked out. “Vhenan, ma'sal'shiral, ar lath ma. I want to see him.” He could barely speak around his now swollen lips. “I want Dorian, I want to see Dorian.” He clawed at his chest for his still dormant crystal. What was happening? He couldn’t feel anything. Why wasn’t he feeling anything? 

Josephine found the letter on the table, half crushed from Jasper’s death grip on it moments before. He was nearly hysterical with his screams, begging to see Dorian. She scanned what it said a harsh chill took over her body. Dorian was dead? She turned to look at Jasper sobbing and still clinging to her arm, pulling at her. His eyes were filled with confusion and fear and tore right through her. She wasted no time in getting closer to him, curling him up against her so his head rested on her chest. His fingers were almost painful on her wrist, but she said nothing and let his greif take them both over. They sat for nearly hours, and were not disturbed by staff which only meant Leliana knew as well. His sobbing only began to subside as his eyes drifted shut from pure exhaustion. He was asleep just before the moon began to rise, still holding onto Josie for dear life. 

Dorian was gone. There was no way left to put it. He was dead and Jasper was utterly and finally alone. His clan, his husband, his kingdom were all gone. All he had left were his friends, as scattered as they were to all four corners of the world. Josephine tightened her grip on him. She was so shocked by the suddeness of it all. She couldn’t begin to think of it, not with Jasper around. He needed her sane and grounded. If she considered it all Josephine was scared of what she’d do. Leliana might have already done something terrible. 

This man had brought the wrath of the inquisition, as secret and scattered as it was. He would earn a harsh and long death. But tonight Josephine could not think of it. She could only give Jasper this, a heartbeat and a friend. He would need much more in the coming weeks, and so would she, but for right now this was what they had. 

And all of Skyhold could hear them mourning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Now that it's summer I plan on updating all my major fics, so expect more updates)


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